


Can The Show Go On?

by pescado_diabolico



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Magic Tricks, Zine Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pescado_diabolico/pseuds/pescado_diabolico
Summary: Masato shied at the touch and gently pushed Cecil’s hands away.  “I’m… fine, Aijima-san, please don’t concern yourself with me at the moment.  You’ve helped me enough as it is.”Before his Shining Solo Series performance, Masato receives some help from Cecil.
Kudos: 2





	Can The Show Go On?

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, it's been a while again. Back at it with the zine fic posting. This was my contribution to Prismatic Volume 2 fanzine, and I can now post it publicly for everyone to enjoy. I'd like to say a bit of thanks again to both the other admins for their hard work, and to the contributors for their talented contributions and patience. If you come across any other fics or fanart from this fanzine, give the authors and artists your support! We can't make these zines without them.
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a kudos or comment. Thanks!

“Remove the cards from the middle of the deck… place them in your sleeve, and… ah!”

Masato closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as the cards slid out of his sleeve and scattered to the floor. He picked them up, one by one, and noticed the way his hands trembled as he slid each card back into the deck. Taking another breath and clenching his fists for a moment, Masato sat down and scanned the dressing room. He removed one of his gloves and mindlessly rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Thinking about the fine needlework and admiring the silken texture grounded him, and Masato felt a thimbleful of his stress settle.

It was the night of his solo performance, and even after weeks of practice, after seemingly perfecting his routine, the meticulously-constructed house of cards that every show required appeared to tremble at Masato’s nerves, and he was determined to not let it fall.

A knock at the door startled him out of his bleak thoughts. “Masato, I am coming in!” Cecil called before entering. He held two bottles of water, smiling brightly. When he noticed the gloom permeating the room, he pursed his lips and his brows knit together. Cecil rushed to his side, taking his hands and sitting near.

“Are you alright? You look very pale.” He placed his hands on Masato’s cheeks, leaning in so close that their noses nearly touched.   
  
Masato shied at the touch and gently pushed Cecil’s hands away. “I’m… fine, Aijima-san, please don’t concern yourself with me at the moment. You’ve helped me enough as it is.”   
  
Cecil frowned. “My work as your producer will not be done until tonight, but more importantly, I am your  _ friend. _ I will not leave you if you are hurting, so please tell me what’s wrong.”

Those deep green eyes bore into Masato, and he could only stand to hold his gaze for so long. “It seems that I’m struggling with some of the card tricks again, despite our practice, and I apologize for my shortcomings.”

Cecil shook his head. “There is no need to say sorry. You are only human, and it is okay to be nervous before a show like this.” As Masato tried to protest, Cecil shushed him by placing his finger on his lips. “Please do not lie. Everyone is very excited to see your show, because we know it will be wonderful, as you would not let it be anything less than that.” He embraced Masato, giving him a tight, encouraging squeeze.

Masato stilled in the embrace but didn't make an effort to move. “I… thank you, Aijima-san," he said, voice soft. "I’ll trust you.”

"Fantastic!" Cecil grinned and clapped his hands together. "Now, would you like to go over your routine together? I would not be a good producer if I did not offer to help.”

Masato matched his determined smile with one of his own. He stood up, cutting the deck of cards and putting one half in each hand. "Let's begin."


End file.
